i could love you for the rest of my life
by oldrival
Summary: unexpectedly spicy reunion between two old men is slightly interrupted by very concerned genius billionaire playboy philanthropist


Bruce doesn't notice the first knock at the door, despite the characteristic way the doorknob rattles because of the almost too intense raps on the other side.

The scientist continues fiddling with an arc reactor prototype Tony had asked him to just mess around with to keep him busy in the lab, see if he might be able to incorporate a form of gamma energy within it as some kind of protective reinforcement or energy source. Bruce's straining eyes, which are tinged barely red as they head toward bloodshot, flit from monitor screens to hologram blueprints to the reactor itself, constantly in motion. The next heavy knock at the door registers in his ears this time. Bruce doesn't bother to drag his gaze away from where he runs another simulation through the hologram. Whoever it is will let themselves in. He assumes it's Tony, expecting progress or an update or just bringing him something to eat; maybe it's Pepper letting him know Tony has disappeared for a couple days on a quick business trip. He has absolutely no idea what time it is down in the windowless lab, so he can't begin to guess the context of the visit. Instead, a distinguishing deep rumble that he hasn't heard in a while, actually, is greeting him, making the scientist finally turn around to face his visitor.

"Banner, how's it going?" the god of thunder peeks at Bruce from where he's slightly cracked the door open so as not to disturb him. Bruce blinks and rubs his eyes under his glasses. Thor looks adorably soft - at least, since Bruce had last seen him, all brooding and rough exterior (and interior, after the continuous onslaught of traumatic events that had taken place) with his short, uneven haircut, angular metal shard wedged in his empty eye socket, clothed in tattered robes and armor as the Statesman descended to Earth - however he's now bundled in at least two thick sweaters and the somewhat baggy jeans he'd taken to wearing after his initial crash-landing on Bruce's home planet.

"Hey, Thor," Bruce's chapped lips ease into a soft smile and he has to clear his throat, voice raspy due to countless hours of inactivity, "Whatcha doing all the way out here?"

Thor shuffles the rest of the way into the lab, returning grin stretching from ear to ear - Bruce can still see his ears, he notices; Thor's unfortunate Sakaarian haircut now flops about his head in a restless style Bruce has never seen on the god before. He looks very domestic. Cozy. Bruce thinks it suits him.

"I wanted to see you, actually," Thor scratches at his nape like he's flustered about it and his eyes don't quite meet Bruce's, "I thought I might perhaps voyage down to the compound for a visit to see my favored human. And the rest of the Avengers, of course."

Bruce swallows, throat dry, at the words _favored human_, whatever that means (he's pretty sure he knows what it means), and racks his exhausted brain for Thor's other human acquaintances because he surely can't be the god of thunder's _favored human_, out of everyone he's met on Earth. He recalls Thor gruffly mentioning his and Jane's 'mutual dumping' on the Statesman, counting her out, and begins to believe it was just some odd phrasing that his poor, tired brain decided to overthink when it seems like out of nowhere Thor's ginormous arms are wrapping around him as he leans down for a hug. Before Bruce can wiggle his own arms out from Thor's solid embrace to reciprocate, Thor is stepping back, smile gone and features contorted in concern, asking, "Are you alright, doctor? You appear to be a little out of it."

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose and hastily rights his glasses, shaking his head.

"I'm great, Thor," he lies, looking up at Thor with wide eyes, which he's pretty sure have bags under them. Thor just raises his eyebrows, rightfully skeptical, and with a knowing tone he asks, "How long have you been awake and when is the last time you've partaken in a meal?"

Chuckling sheepishly, Bruce can only answer his question with a question, "What day is it?"

Bruce will admit to himself he feels a little less beat after Thor sits him down and feeds him a (somewhat charred on one side, but he tried his best for not having to prepare food on his own for the majority of his life) grilled cheese sandwich. Thor spins idly in one of the battered swivel chairs Tony hasn't bothered to replace and rambles on about New Asgard while Bruce, perched on the table he'd been working on, half listens and half just stares, because wow. Yes, he's delighted that Brunnhilde is helping run the place, keeping things in order, and displaying very intriguing qualities that might suggest she should become a leader of some sort, but the juxtaposition of Thor's prickly stubble, hard jaw, and dense physique against the fluffy sweaters he's wearing and his golden mop of hair is just so captivating. Planting his feet on the floor to ground himself, Thor squints at Bruce, eyes unblinking and crust held up to his parted lips - and Bruce realizes how silly he must look, hasty to focus instead on the suddenly very interesting floor.

"I'm listening," Bruce insists earnestly and quickly finishes the remaining crust, "Sorry."

Thor toes over in his chair to Bruce, shaking his knee with a firm hand and looking up at him with pursed lips.

"Tony and - ah, I've forgotten her name again - something with a P ... Penelope? Pippa? No ... Pepper! That's it. They do reside here too, yes? Why do they allow you to deprive yourself of a healthy lifestyle? Remaining for days in this desolate laboratory, always working, must tire your brain and body," Thor chides, but Bruce feels alert and awake now, fixated on Thor's soothing hand rubbing his knee. Thor bites his lip and hesitantly starts, "We've got to get you out of here, Bruce."

Thor pushes back away from the table a little with his foot and puts his hand back in his lap. Bruce's knee feels cold.

"Not that the compound is a bad place, or something," Thor clarifies, playing with his fingers that, Bruce notices, spark with little blue bursts of electricity, "It's nice. Great resources. All the technology you could ever want here. It's - it's home. But I think a change of scenery would do you well. How would you like to come visit New Asgard? With me?"

Bruce inhales, a tiny gasp, and without thinking, really, reaches to pull Thor's hand into both of his, and gets a little prickly shock from the sparks, "Yes! Of course! I'd love to see it, with you, especially after hearing so much about it."

After Sakaar he'd parted ways with Thor and the Valkyrie; him to Tony's compound and the two of them off to found New Asgard in some remote European location - he'd forgotten exactly where (his human brain post-two years as the Hulk hadn't adjusted and been especially functional at first). He'd had Tony, and reconvened with Nat and Steve and the rest of the team, which was great. He'd been so grateful to be back with them, his family, safe and sound. But once he settled back into a fairly normal routine, a part of him yearned for the companions he'd spent his time in outer space with. He honestly felt just a tad empty without their constant energy and banter. Thor presenting him with this impromptu invitation to be with them again, for however long, was something he couldn't see why he'd say no to. Besides, Bruce felt an almost magnetic connection to Thor. Maybe it blossomed from having to keep close to him on Sakaar, but he felt an instinctual pull to stick to the lightning wielder's side. Bruce's relationship with Thor was a puzzling one, especially after all their time together on the Statesman -

Thor stands up, holding Bruce's hands with both of his own. He studies the scientist's face below him, their fond expressions reflected in each other's eyes.

"I had to come see you. I - I missed you, I think," Thor mumbles. Bruce can't suppress his smile. The back of his neck is hot and so are his cheeks. Thor licks his lips, the motion fast, fluid, and after a moment he asks, exactly the same as he had the day the Hulk became Bruce again on the Statesman and it was the two of them alone in one of the many interwoven metal hallways, staring out at the vast black expanse of space, "Can I kiss you?"

Bruce fumbles with his glasses, hands shaky and chest tight, swelling, and manages to shove them in his shirt pocket.

"I don't think you have to ask anymore," Bruce grins. Thor grins right back and leans down to - very soft and carefully - press his lips to the scientist's. Untangling his hands from Thor's, which are really sparking now - Bruce is honestly too elated that he's kissing the man to be worried about a little lightning - Bruce reaches out to (finally) touch him; press one hand against his chest and rake the other from his shoulder down to his bicep and wow, in spite of the thick layers he's wearing, Bruce can still feel hard, toned muscle beneath. He kind of wants to see it. Bruce's own body warms when Thor strokes his jaw, so much love and care behind the tender gesture, fingers toying with his ear. Thor's other hand is back to rubbing his knee, but now it's more like his thigh, too. Their lips lock and move against each other like they'd kissed a million times before. So sure of what they're doing; so sure of each other. Suddenly Bruce is aware of Thor's body pressed against the inside of his thighs and he wonders when his legs spread apart to let him in. Then Thor is biting his bottom lip and sucking on it, and Bruce has to stifle an involuntary noise that rises from deep in his chest at how _good _that feels. Bruce pushes on the god's chest just barely, pulling back to catch his breath. Thor's golden eyelashes lay heavy on his eyes when he blinks down at Bruce and his thumb trails from Bruce's chin to trace his (thankfully not chapped anymore, Bruce realizes) lips. A look of determination settles onto Thor's features - Bruce recognizes it from 2012 in New York and the more recent battle with his sister - and he makes a hungry noise in his throat that sends blood rushing down between Bruce's legs.

"I definitely missed you," Thor mutters. Before Bruce can reply Thor's already licking into his mouth, big hand splayed out on his thigh and thumb pressing at a dangerous place on its inside. Bruce can't remember the last time he'd got action like this, much less from a god. He hooks a finger in Thor's belt loop to tug him closer while his other hand fists in the hem of Thor's sweater. Thor's thumb and forefinger reach to undo the button on Bruce's slacks and his breath hitches when the rest of Thor's fingers brush lower between his legs. Tiny noises escape Bruce's lips into the now very wet and absolutely not chaste kiss and he tries not to think about what Thor's lips would feel like in other places. Almost like he read his mind, Thor mouths across Bruce's jaw and he stoops a little to suck at the scientist's neck. The rough scratch of Thor's stubble against his own smooth skin soothed by the press of wet lips has Bruce moaning softly, quiet sounds punctuated by heavy panting gasps while his trembling fingers twist in Thor's sweater. Bruce is just starting to think things can't get any better but Thor steps back and surveys the table, and Bruce has to fling a hand out behind himself so he doesn't fall forward without Thor to hold onto.

"This won't do," Thor states, shuffling back from between the scientist's legs. Bruce swallows, still panting, and looks at Thor, lost, "What won't do? What are you-"

Thor leans over the table and sweeps tools, folders full of paper documents and reports, the reactor prototype, and one of the godforsaken expensive monitors to the floor on the opposite side of the table.

"Thor," Bruce whines, "Did you really have to do that?"

Bruce's phone, luckily not cast to the floor, chimes insistently, vibrating a foot away from him on the table. Grabbing it by instinct, he reads a text from Tony:

_R u ok?_

His phone dings brightly again in his hands:

_What the hell r u doing in there_

Bruce unlocks the phone to reply with shaky, sweaty fingers, but Thor plucks it from his hands and the last texts he sees from Tony say:

_I just heard a crash_

_Was that u_

_Did u Hulk out?_

_R u good?_

"You midgardians really are so obsessed with those damn cellular devices," Thor huffs, tugging Bruce's shirt out from his slacks, "By Odin's beard, there's a god who wants to make love to - oh, no, you all say fuck - you right in front of you. Is that not a thrilling enough situation for a mortal to refrain from using their stupid telephone?"

Scowling at him with a very red face, Bruce starts unbuttoning his shirt from the top while Thor works his way up from the bottom. He's curious about who Thor heard say 'fuck' in that context. All his brain chooses to verbally acknowledge, however, is Thor's choice of what might be considered profanity, "Could you _not _mention your, like, thousand year old dead dad right now? Gross."

Sparking hands still working at the buttons on Bruce's shirt, Thor reattaches his mouth to the scientist's neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down toward his now exposed clavicle.

"My sincerest apologies, doctor," Thor murmurs, the sarcasm clear in his words, and continues to ravage Bruce's skin with light nips and licks. Bruce's toes curl in his shoes, lewd breathy noises of encouragement the only sounds in the lab besides the rustle of clothing and the occasional creak of the table when he shifts on top of it. Thor finally pops the last button on Bruce's shirt and peels the crisp linen back from hot, sweaty skin in hurried eager grasps.

"I'm not getting naked if you aren't," Bruce insinuates and shrugs his shirt off anyway. He flings it behind him to add to the heap on the floor. Thor grins down at him, taking a step back so he can pull his fleecy sweaters up and over his head. Hurling them past Bruce to join The Pile, which seems to be growing at an exponential rate now, Thor's muscles ripple at his movement, gleaming under a thin sheen of sweat when he brings his arms down and situates himself back between Bruce's legs. Bruce can't believe a god this incredible-looking left his brand-new kingdom and travelled across the Atlantic Ocean for him, and is worshipping his body like he's the god right now.

"Thor," Bruce starts quietly, thinking about how things didn't work out between Jane and Thor for a reason; he remembers her complaining about how he kept abruptly leaving and promising her he'd return soon, which, of course, he never did, and if whatever the _f-word _was going on between himself and Thor ended up meeting a similar fate being an Avenger would admittedly suck. A lot. Maybe a relationship - if that's even what this was, or would become - wouldn't be such a great idea with a work buddy. Bruce didn't know if he could handle the potential emotional impact of a break up. Essentially, it was the loss of a loved one, except you still saw them occasionally and had to deal with the painful sensation of acting like you totally didn't care about them at all. He definitely wouldn't be able to handle that.

Thor seems to notice Bruce isn't heaving like he's just run a marathon anymore (in a good way, at least) because the grin disappears from his lips and he places firm hands on Bruce's thighs to ground him.

"I know - I know this is like the worst possible time to have a, um, "what are we" talk, but - are you sure this is a good idea? You want this? You want me? ... all of me?" Bruce asks, tentative eyes looking up at Thor as he chews nervously at his bottom lip. Thor smiles softly, nodding, "Of course, Bruce. We're ... whatever you want us to be. I did journey all the way out here and temporarily withdraw my presence from New Asgard to come see you. Probably not something a new king should do, but, I - I missed you. I really did. I've always wanted you, and the distance between us lately simply made me realize this. You really must stop worrying so much."

And then his hands are on Bruce's shoulders and he's pressing him gently back so he's lying half naked with a sweaty god of thunder leaning over him on _Tony's lab table_.

"Thor," Bruce gasps shakily when Thor's rough hands slide up his body and the tiny lightning sparking from them pricks his chest, "You really don't want to do this on like, a bed, or something? I do have a bedroom here, y'know. I might not use it much, but-"

"Absolutely not. I must have you now. I believe I've waited long enough," Thor interrupts. Bruce's jaw drops a little when he realizes Thor must have imagined them doing this for at least some time now. Eyes squeezing shut, he hisses and can't hold back moans as Thor leaves a trail of wet-hot kisses down his chest that turn into hickies when he starts to use his teeth. Bruce's phone chimes again - probably Tony freaking out, he thinks - and he feels the brief vibration on his bare back through the table.

"I - oh, God, mmmf-" Thor's mouth brutally attacks a nipple, "I gotta look at that."

Thor mumbles something snarky about humans and their fucking telephones against his chest while Bruce pats the table in vain with an outstretched arm to try and grab his phone and let Tony know he's okay. Once he eventually manages to find it and still his hand into a solid enough grip so that he can actually hold the thing, he's able to read Tony's latest distressed messages:

_Hello? JARVIS said there's abnormal heat sig movement in there wtf is going on?_

_Is some1 attacking u?!_

_Hello _

_Bruce?_

Thor leans back from Bruce's body, which is splotchy with red patches and forming bruises, and fumbles with his fly, muttering, "Put the damn thing away, love."

If Thor's calling him _love_ then he'll forget all about the phone and Tony will just have to keep worrying about him and take what he can get from Jarvis. Thor shoves his jeans down just so his briefs peek out. Bruce thinks he might be hyperventilating.

"Been _fucked_ like this before, Banner? Obviously, not by a god," Thor is leaning over him again, hot breath right in his ear as he growls against his jaw and Bruce can hear the feral grin burning through his words, "I'll go slow."

"I - Uh, yeah, couple times. You can hurry it up a little, now, please," biting his lip, Bruce reaches up to hold Thor's huge shoulder. He wants to get his pants down already; he feels like if he's stuck straining in them much longer he might burst. Thor drags a still sparking hand down Bruce's side and tugs Bruce's slacks down, slow, almost like he's teasing. Bruce really does not understand how his boxers are containing him right now; he doesn't have to keep waiting for long, though. Thor kisses along his jaw, stopping at his mouth, tongue immediately plunging between Bruce's lips. At the god's gentle touches below Bruce moans into his mouth without holding back, embarrassingly loud, and he knows he won't be able to look Thor - or anyone, probably, in the eye tomorrow.

"You're different when you're getting fucked," Thor mumbles against his lips, and Bruce whines because he wishes Thor would stop saying that word (he absolutely does not because he secretly thinks it's the hottest thing he's ever heard) and all he can retort with because his mind is fuzzy and he's out of breath is, "Your fault."

All of a sudden there's a burst of cool air _down there_ and Thor's tugging his boxers down, pulling back just slightly but still close enough that his hot breath warms Bruce's own very pink and sweaty face. The god turns his cheek, sticking three of his fingers in his mouth, and at Bruce's wide-eyed look says around them, "Unfortunately, I did not come prepared. Wasn't sure if I'd make it this far. You want to do it?"

"Mmm," is all Bruce replies and grabs Thor's wrist, opening his mouth to suck on already slick fingers. His dick throbs at the thought of Thor thinking about _this_ his entire journey across the ocean, possibly planning it out in his head, consumed by desire for nobody else but him. Thor swears under his breath and buries his face in the crook of Bruce's neck when he weaves his tongue between Thor's fingers. Bruce can see over Thor's shoulder now and is shocked (but not literally) to see pale blue electricity encircling the god's muscular frame.

"Thor," the scientist calls, finally deciding to bring the sparks to his attention, feebly pushing Thor's hand away from his mouth, "You're, uh, you've got lightning everywhere. But somehow it's not hurting me?"

Thor heaves himself up on both arms and smiles at him (Bruce's heart skips and he really hopes his cardiovascular system will be able to handle this), "Yes, that's a - a thing that happens. Strong emotions. Try not to be alarmed if it gains intensity, in a minute. It won't hurt you."

Thor lowers himself onto his elbow, mouth back on Bruce's in a lecherous, slow but intense kiss while his other arm gingerly finds its way down below - and oh, it's warm. It's heavy. Bruce is fairly certain Thor has only slipped a single finger in but he feels full already.

"Thor," Bruce moans the god's name, hands reaching to hold something, anything to brace himself because the big green other guy might be able to complete with Thor's super strength but Bruce Banner is definitely no match. His arms end draped over Thor's back, blunt nails digging into tough, muscled skin just for some fruitless attempt at leverage against Thor's pushing fingers. Bruce fights to keep his legs open, spread, his slacks bunched and taught down around his thighs. In fleeting moments when Bruce manages to crack his eyes open, he sees Thor breathing heavy and enveloped in a swarm of growing blue sparks. If one touches him, he only feels a pleasant burst of energy surge through his veins near the point of contact, but no pain. Still pinging relentlessly from the side, Bruce's phone is completely ignored.

"Are you alright, love?" Thor breathes, fingers stretching and dancing inside Bruce, who is a total wreck and knows it. Bruce nods, hoping his drawn-out gasping moans sound at least somewhat encouraging. He's about to ask Thor if he can please just touch him, please put his hands on him, because he needs big warm hands on his overwhelmed and trembling body to hold him down but Thor pulls away, standing straight, and both hands (so tragically) come to his sides. Bruce is cold and horribly empty. He starts to feel an ache burn in his thighs. Then Thor thrusts his briefs down and Bruce doesn't know whether to marvel at his size or the crackling blue electricity swirling around what he's only ever dreamed about seeing.

"You have a habit of staring," Thor grins, blatant pride written all over his face as he beams down at Bruce. Still as careful and slow as he was kissing Bruce not so long ago, Thor guides himself into the vacuity his fingers left behind and as he's sliding in Bruce's eyes roll back and his head thunks down onto the table. He's so full. His pulse pounds everywhere in his body; his ears, throat, chest, dick, and the tips of his toes and fingers throb as blood rushes through his veins. Or maybe it's the electricity. The intensity and vibrancy of the blue sparks swarming about Thor steadily increase as he sinks in deeper and deeper. As soon as the god reaches to grip Bruce's hips the scientist's hands are scrambling to secure a hold on Thor's big strong arms, locked on him. Heaving for air, Bruce whines at the stretch and the low, guttural moans slipping from Thor's lips. Once Thor finally bottoms out, the surrounding blue lightning snapping and crackling in the air around them, he leans to press kisses to Bruce's shaking, sticky chest. One of Thor's slick, sweaty hands grasps his leaking dick, stroking him slow, steadily building up the burn and need to release in the depths of his stomach. His lack of recent experience making him hyper-sensitive now, Bruce feels every slight shift in Thor's pelvis, languid attempts to buck and grind into his strong hands futile. Thor stretches to meet Bruce's lips, the heavy presence of his mouth reassuring and sedating - and then Bruce's phone rings, Led Zeppelin's "Immigrant Song" cutting through their wet noises and gasps and sighs with no remorse. Their moans turn to groans.

"Won't that damn thing shut up for once?" Thor huffs (Bruce tries not to let the god's irritation turn him on more. He fails.), "Surely it possesses an off button. Volume - "

A particularly emphatic moan escapes Bruce when Thor leans back, his dick slipping halfway out of the scientist before he explains, "It's Tony. He's worried about me. He thinks I'm being attacked or, or Hulked out, or something. Because of - of the noises. You didn't bother to tell him you were coming?"

Thor's pleasure-ridden expression falters in a moment of realization and the lightning bumbling around his body crackles in an ominous way that Bruce thinks seems pissed off.

"Well, no. I wasn't coming for _him_," Thor gripes, "Though I do suppose we should let him know you're doing just fantastic."

Bruce's eyes widen and he knows Thor is _not_ about to pick up the phone and answer it, right _now_, while they're literally _doing it_ in Tony's lab _on the table_ \- and another humiliatingly loud moan flies from his throat when Thor lurches forward to grab the phone with the hand that's not teasing the head of his dick.

"Evening, Stark," Thor grunts, eyes bright and impish as he grins down at Bruce, who just shakes his head and attempts to roll his eyes. Bruce hears Tony's familiar drone through the phone Thor holds clumsily to his ear, "Point Break? That you?_ What_ is going on down there? Are you with Bruce?"

Thor has the audacity to twist a nipple, pull away, unhurried, and then slam back into the scientist while Tony is right there on the phone but Bruce can't stop the raspy cry from escaping his lips at the unexpected touch and aggression. He's hot from physical exertion and now embarrassment too.

"Uh, what was that? Is Banner okay? Hey, blondie, can you tell me what's going on?" Tony's voice buzzes loud and clear from the phone at Thor's ear. Much to Bruce's chagrin, the god looks like he's stifling laughter and not mortifying erotic noises of his own, despite the way Bruce feels his dick throb and drip inside of him. Thor starts, "Oh, yes, Bruce is - " Bruce musters up all the strength his weak and tired human body has at the moment and grinds down with all his might against Thor, " - just _fine_!"

Thor's voice goes squeaky at _fine_, the lightning encircling his body booming like thunder and reaching peak bright blue vibrancy, surging in a thrilling way through Bruce where they're joined at the hip as they both climax from the sudden jolt of pleasure, but more importantly, frying the phone with a sizzle so Tony doesn't witness the god's breathy voice crack or any more of the uncontrollable and very embarrassing noises Bruce makes while he rides the sensation out, rolling his hips against Thor's.

"I got you good, huh?" Grinning, Bruce tugs on Thor's arm to bring him closer. Thor smiles down at the scientist and tosses the fried remnants of the phone at The Pile. He leans over Bruce, huge hands cradling his jaw, and kisses him, lazy and soft. Their bodies are warm and tingly, the blue lightning previously radiating from Thor now just pale sparks hissing around them.

"You did. And now I got you," Thor murmurs. And they hold each other, lips moving slow and tender like they have all the time in the world to breathe each other in and stay as close as they can get on Tony Stark's gosh darn lab table.


End file.
